He leaned upright by the open window, his hands in his pockets, as the Dundoons playfully rearranged the furniture. The etiquette on an occasion like this was simple. He must not make himself ridiculous by taking too seriously the frolic of men not entirely sober. Neither must he allow himself to be insulted. Peter looked carelessly on, very calm but alert to decide when the joke had gone as far as the decorum of Gamaliel allowed. One of the Dundoons was arranging Peter's coal neatly upon the mantelpiece. Another was turning his pictures to the wall. His tablecloth and hearthrug were transposed. His wardrobe was assorted into heaps upon the floor and labelled for a sale by auction. Suddenly Peter saw that Dundoon was about to empty a water-jug into the bed. Peter passed swiftly towards him. "I don't think we'll do that," he said. "It would be nasty." "You've been very rude to me," said Dundoon, dangerously tilting the jug. Peter grasped him firmly by the arm and took the jug away. He put it back into the corner. Dundoon looked at Peter for a moment in drunken meditation. Then he put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Peter Pagger," he said, "this is most important. Sorry to say--absolutely necessary to cleanse and purify unwholesome bed." And he walked to the corner. Peter followed him. "Dundoon," he said sharply. Dundoon turned and found Peter at his elbow. Peter shook his fist under the nose of Dundoon. "Pick up that water-jug and I'll punch your damned head." "Here, you fellows," shouted Dundoon. "Come and hear what Peter Pagger is saying. He's been very rude to me." The Dundoons crowded into the little bedroom, and someone called: "Take away his trousers!" Peter stood back. There was an uproar and a movement towards him. "Mind yourselves," he shouted. "I'm going to fight." There was a knock at the bedroom door, and silence fell suddenly. "Come in," called Peter, not without relief. The Junior Prior stood in the doorway. He had heard an uproar in Peter's rooms, and he did not immediately see the company. "Mr. Paragon," he said with the dignity of a sergeant, "what's all this noise?" He had got as far as this when Dundoon suddenly put a fond arm around his neck. "It's all right, Peepy," he said. "Peter Pagger's been very rude to me." The Junior Prior changed colour, and Peter enjoyed his confusion. The Junior Prior's attempt at discipline collapsed. He had come to assert his authority over a mere member of the college, but he had fallen among friends. "Don't you think this has gone far enough?" He almost pleaded with Dundoon. "Peter Pagger's been very rude to me." "Yes. But I think you ought to come away." "But, Peepy, this is most important." One of the Dundoons, more alive to the position than the rest, hastily pushed his leader from the room. Already the other men had discreetly vanished. "What are you doing?" Dundoon protested.